


Story of a Drunk Man

by MatchAshes



Category: No Fandoms, Origional Work - Fandom, impressionable, interpritational
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchAshes/pseuds/MatchAshes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lonely editor runs into an old friend. After a brief exchange she is interrupted one morning to a knock at her door. This story tells of the dangers of infatuation, and the importance of facing yourself before you expect others to fix you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story as a prediction of my future to tell the truth, but I was very careful not to include names so as to not expose identity's and I guess that can help if you want to picture specific charictors. Nobody I've shown the story to shows any interest at all, so I feel it's time to set it free in the world. The rest of my works will be more homestuck related, and more than likely poems, not story's. This is in work in progress. I IMPLORE YOU TO LEAVE SOME KIND OF FEED BACK!!!

Life changes so quickly and unexpectedly your head will spin trying to understand the underlying truths to events. This leads me to be a very religious person, or at least very superstitious considering if this is not of God then fate might be more intrical than anyone seems to notice. Feelings are more powerful than people give them credit for. Something as odd as keeping a boy from crossing the street could lead to a joyful five months. Something as odd as being at the right place at the right time could make you a millionaire. Something as minute as the letters in a name can change fate drastically. So by now you know that nothing is planned, hopefully. Now that we are clear on those terms, we can move on. I spend almost all my time in my apartment on the first floor. I've spent years perfecting the art of description and I find the pinnacle of skill is to describe ocean water for so long it constitutes as artwork, as boring as it is. I'm obsessed with sounds and noises, voices and volumes and pitches that range from annoying to intriguing to just straight out strange. I sing and I sing well so I believe my love of singing is the reason for being interested in noises. I'd wanted to be a singer since I was very young, but never got the support I needed, and by the time I could support myself my spirit had been killed to the point where I didn't know what to do with myself. What do I do now? I edit from home. People email me their works and I check them for errors and inaccuracies. There are times where I make separate emails with advice to help them improve but I never send them. I'm not normally listened to anyway. People are much happier that way, and if that's the small thing I can do to keep the peace, I'll do it. My house is rather sparse and I tend to clean when I take breaks just to get up. I only leave to retrieve food or pay bills. Living alone is convenient. There’s no combat over where to put things or the colors of decor or screaming about the other person being a slob, because when you live alone, there’s only one person to blame if you’re wading through a sea of yesteryears newspapers. My dad visits often, worrying about me. He has been a ghost of what he was since my mom died. I'm a lot like my dad. He's strong and I admire him for that. He just keeps moving no matter how hard life is. When I was younger I would say that I wanted to be my dad when I grew up, but unfortunately that never happened. Now he shows up some days to give me advice and see how I am. On the days he doesn't show up we talk on the phone about how we're doing. It's good. My life has been very different since I graduated high school. I say that now because the great forces of life started effacing my hopes during that time. Reality sunk in and I quit doing what I wanted to. I knew I had to sacrifice dreams for reality, and as those months waived I found myself clinging for the past more and more. The people I had known that I'd been so close to for so long floated in their own directions, and I did what I'd said I'd do for years. ‘Fuck this. I'm moving to Austin.’ Austin had been my city of dreams. The culture and music were rich, and the food was so different and diverse. I looked forward to the meals each day, and looked out for food trucks, never eating the same place twice. I also moved there with a spark of hope. Some idea that maybe I'll find what I'd lost and gain what I'd never had. A couple years passed. I was wrong. I returned to my natural state, fading out of reconstruction. I started editing. That time became my norm.


	2. reintroduction

I was out running my errands. I was at the store, as most people normally are. Being lost in the baking isle I bumped into someone on accident. I quickly turned to apologize, but when they looked at me I instantly recognized the face. His mouth stretched into a grin. I could feel my face change color for the first time in months. Here he was, with a bag of sugar in hand.  
I don't know what came over me, or if there was anything to come over me. None the less my following actions were not justified. A stammered 'hello' escaped my shocked mouth as I grasped my basket. It looked like I was threatened and I had to talk myself into calming down. I was in the exact opposite of danger. What was wrong with me? He placed his suger in his cart. He answered with the same word. Finally looking up he noticed how flustered I was. In those few moments far too many things flashed in my head. Plans from highschool to move in with my three friends that ultimately failed for many reasons. That all seemed like ancient history. I did a quick spat of math and realized how close that was compared to say, elementary school. That was about as disturbing as the fact cleopatra lived closer to the holocaust than ancient Greece.  
I ruffled through the ingredients in my small basket eager to make a conversation even though he wasn't going anywhere.  
"Hey! how's life? What's up?"  
"It's fine. You? It's been a while."  
"Meh."  
I shrugged more unsure than ever before. And the useless banter continued until we reached the conclusion that friends who had been so close at some time would be a shame to pass up without contacts exchanged. Upon exchanging my address with his I noticed a small price of metal around a very important finger. My body retained its tenseness. I didn't bring it up. We said our goodbyes, and I continued shopping as if nothing had happened.


	3. the real beginning

Some time that next week there was a quiet morning that had been quickly disrupted by a loud banging at my door. It was so late at night all things of god had decided to turn in long ago. I was only up due to arbitrary fear, and a deep feeling something would happen tonight. I opened the door. In fell my old friend and he introduced me to his pal Ralph, that sprawled out on the floor staining my carpet. From a fear my visitor would fall on him, I stabilized him against the smell. This was a moment that left no time for waiting.  
"Heyyyyyy!" he'd said through his tainted breath, thick with elixirs. "Cn I sty?" Instead of replying I helped him avoid the mess he'd released in my apartment and introduced him to my couch, who he made friends with quickly. I took great care to lay him on his side facing out. Weirdly and unexpectedly he remained conscious after god knows what he'd done that night.  
"I kno ya lk me"  
"Yeah"  
"Su?"  
"Go to sleep, aren't you dizzy?"  
I stood to gather supplies for moving out his present before any permanent damage sank in.  
"But I wanna taaaaalk!" He whined.  
"What do you wanna talk about?" I sighed turning around and found him half asleep already, against his will he was passing out rapidly.  
"Cme cluser"   
I did.  
His toxic breath filled my lungs.  
He burped in my face and faded into sleep.  
I quietly backed away and had a strong need to brush my teeth. I went to go do so and returned to find him snoring quietly. As I scrubbed my entry way clean my mind started to drift.  
This drunk person on my couch, blessed to have found me. I have no idea why I expected anything intelligent from a drunk. He snarled. The gross liquid invaded my cleaning cloth, and I had to remind myself my skin is washable multiple times. I wasn't expecting having to clean at 3am on a wednesday night but I guess I should stop expecting things. Considering it seems all of life is just a cluster of random events and hoping any order will occur is a false wish I'd sooner disprove. For a few brief moments I'd forgotten about the restlessness that had kept me up so late this morning. I grew bitter. This had never happened before but, good lord! The lack of self control this boy has is unnerving. I looked up after finishing the task at hand and saw dawn fill my windows.   
I set up the coffee pot and left it running. I left a note near my guest telling him coffee was ready and placed a blanket on his torso that was gently rising and falling. Happy he was still breathing, and tired from the long night, I decided it was better to sleep in the same room. I slept under the TV where I'd left the note.


End file.
